


The Story of the Sacred Deer and Black Phillip

by nerdbird26



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Angst, Demons, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Horror, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rituals, Self-Denial, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-28 02:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdbird26/pseuds/nerdbird26
Summary: Copper Creek, Virginia (1989)Andrew Moore lives with his family of five: his mother, father, and five year old sister and brother. The family goes to church every Sunday. They pray. They continue to maintain their reputation as the squeaky clean American family in their suburban neighborhood.Azazel Rosales lives on the outskirts of town in a trailer community. The community is secluded and surrounded by dense forests. Ever since he was four years old, he would participate in his family’s “activities.” Even though he was raised in this community since he was born, he feels an unsettling aura in his home.





	1. Pagan of the Good Times

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original, personal work about my ocs.

A body looked back at him in the mirror. A white dress shirt clung to his chest. The black pants were a little too big, but with a belt they stayed up just fine. His fading pastel blue hair was slicked down. Light freckles decorated his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

A faint knocking came from his bedroom door. It was cracked open and his mother, dressed up in a salmon blouse and skirt, appeared on the other side.

“Andrew.” She spoke on her usual soft voice. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Andrew replied, grabbing a black coat that laid on his bed before leaving the room.

Downstairs, his father and two siblings, twins, were already waiting by the door. His younger sister, Faith, wore a pastel pink dress with a peti coat underneath. His brother, Gabriel, wore a light blue button up with dress pants.

His father dressed similarly to him. His shirt, much to his mother’s dissatisfaction, was unironed. His face was scruffy and needed to be shaved. Once Andrew and his mother reached the bottom step, he opened the door and ordered the twins into the mini van.

On the porch, his mother stopped him for a brief moment. She licked the tips of her index and middle finger and gingerly brushed down a few stray hairs. “You look so handsome.” She said, and led him to the car.

The ride to church was quiet, the only sound being the Christian music being played on the radio. They arrived at Copper Creek’s Christian Church and piled out of the car. Inside they were greeted by the usual guests of the church. Elderly couples and long-time friends gave them hugs and handshakes. The pastor passed by and greeted them.

The Moore family sat in their usual seats near the front, right behind the Fishers. The session then began. Everyone stood, sang, sat, kneeled, and prayed when everyone was supposed to. After an hour it ended. Some families gathered their things and headed to the parking lot to leave. Others stayed to talk personally with the pastor or with other members of the church.

Andrew’s family had lingered behind for a bit, chatting with a teacher from Faith and Gabriel’s class. He remained sitting on the edge of the bench, waiting patiently for his parents, when someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned to see Angelica Fisher, the eldest daughter of the Fisher family.

She had waist-long blond hair and sharp blue eyes, a common trait passed down in her family. She wore a cardigan that matched her eye color and a skirt. She was astonishingly pretty, the most beautiful girl at their private school without a doubt.

“Hey, Andrew! Nice to see you.” Her voice was sweet like strawberry lemonade. He wondered if her lips tastes like that, too.

“Yeah, good to see you, too, Angelica.” Andrew said.

“You know David Martin, right?” Andrew nodded. “Well, he’s hosting this party at his house on Friday and it’s gonna be a lot of fun. So I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

“Well, sure. I’d totally like to go!” Angelica smiled at his response. She fetched a small spiral notebook and a pen from her purse and scribbled down David’s address. She tore the page from the book and handed it to Andrew. Before leaving, she bent down and placed a peck on his cheek. She then rushed off to her family, who were already walking out the large church doors.

Andrew sat is shock, staring after Angelica as she met up with her parents. He was a little breathless and flustered by the move. His logical side debated that it was platonic, a simple goodbye kiss. But his other half wanted it to be more. He folded up the slip up paper and put it in his pocket.

Once he had calmed down, he walked over to his parents, still talking to Mr. Harris, the teacher he also had when he was Faith and Gabe’s age. The man soon recognizes him as he approached and shook his hand, commenting on how much he had changed.

The comment had been harmless, but something poked at Andrew about it. It was typical of relatives and family friends to say “how much you’ve grown” or “how different you’re voice is”, but Andrew’s situation was slightly different. After 5 months on T, he was already experiencing some grand changes. His voice got deeper, he got taller, and started growing more hair. When he was younger he had wondered what puberty was like for boys. Now he was actually going through that.

The conversation ended and the Moores headed back home. Everyone went to their respective rooms and changed into their pajamas. Before putting his church clothes away, he remembered the address given to him by Angelica. He held the paper between his fingers and climbed into bed. He whispered a prayer into his folded hands, said amen, and got under the covers.

He stared up at the ceiling for a while, making sure the house was silent and that everyone had gone to sleep. He started to feel a little guilty, but he opened up the paper and read the curvy handwriting written on the lines paper.

“David Martin - Pleasant Lake Street 9647, Friday 8:00 pm”

Without thinking about the guilty feeling creeping up on him anymore, he licked two of his fingers and dug his hand into his shorts. Between his parted legs, he touched himself, struggling to keep his mouth shut. In his own head he muttered her name over and over again. He recalled the memory of the kiss on the cheek. Something once innocent turned into something else.

Becoming impatient, he brought his hand to his mouth again and licked a third finger, then rubbed himself till a warm feeling bubbled up in his stomach. He became rough with himself, his movements fast and his thoughts vulgar. Unconsciously, he let out the smallest noise from his mouth. He started panting out loud, and even though his noises were so quiet, he still felt like someone could hear him. It was dangerous, he felt. He liked it.

He was brought to the edge, throwing his head back into his pillow. His legs went limp and his fingers stopped moving inside of himself. He adjusted his shorts, placed the note on his bedside table, and got up. Andrew went to the bathroom to wash the smell of himself from his fingers. The whole moment made him feel a little shameful and embarrassed, but he wished he could experience that feeling again. Just one more time.

Andrew went back to bed and slept peacefully that night.


	2. Satanic and Chained Up

Thunderous knocking came at his bedroom door. From the other side he could hear his father, obviously impatient, ordering to come out.

“Oye, chico! Get out here now! You’re going with your uncle to get some supplies! Apurate!”

“Alright! Ya voy!” Azazel yelled back. He pushed himself out of bed and threw on a grimy hoodie and jeans. He left his bedroom and saw his mother sitting at the small dining table reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

“Azzy, when you head into town, buy me a new pack of cigarettes.” Without looking up from her reading, she handed him a crumpled up five dollar bill.

“Ma, do I have to go with Tio Goito?” He asked, taking the cash.

“Ya, it’s only for a little bit.” She shooed him off and with a sigh, he begrudgingly left his small trailer house.

Outside, his uncle was slumped on the hood of his rusty pick-up truck. When he saw Azzy approach him, he got into the driver seat and started up the vehicle, foul-smelling smoke emmiting from the back. Azazel climbed into the passenger seat, pushing off old papers and porn magazines beforehand.

They pulled into the dirt road that led to town. “Just getting some supplies for tonight.” He explained. Azzy nodded, not really caring. He rested his elbow on the open window, the breeze combing through his fluffy brown hair.

“Wanna hit?” Goito asked, holding out a joint to him. Azazel hates his uncle with a passion, but he did take advantage of his offer of drugs. He took the joint and happily sucked in the fumes. He coughed, then took a second hit without hesitation.

“That’s enough of that.” Goito said, snatching the drug from him. Azzy huffed in frustration. Already his eyes were burning and his finger tips tingled. They pulled into the parking lot of the hardware store they visited frequently. Azazel unbuckled his seatbelt and was about to get out of the car when Goito stopped him.

“Oye me. Act normal. Don’t want anyone to know that you’ve been smoking.”

Azazel furrowed his brow. “But you’re the one who-“

A sharp slap to the jaw shut him up. “No me jodas, puto! Just act normal.” With that, he got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Azazel did the same and followed him inside.

The usual cashier greeted them. Goito went to the back of the shop to search for planks of wood and other materials. Azzy stayed near the front, looking for the pack of cigarettes his mother smoked. Once he found it, he placed it on the counter and handed the cashier the five dollar bill. He stuffed the change and pack into his hoodie pocket and waited for his uncle.

His uncle approached him, carrying wood planks, nails, matches, and red paint. “Well help me carry this mierda, won’t you.” They paid for the supplies and carried it out to the truck. After tossing the things into the back, they piled back into the truck. They drove on the road back to their secluded home in silence.

“Don’t tell your parents about the weed.” Goito warned.

“Si, I know.”

“And don’t forget that you have to help set everything up for tonight.”

“Fuck.” Azzy muttered under his breath. Apparently his uncle had heard him, for he slammed on the brakes, causing Azzy to crash head first into the dashboard. When he pulled back, his nose was bleeding profusely.

“No te quejas, nino!” His uncle snapped. “You should be fucking grateful! Understand!?”

Azazel couldn’t reply. He was too busy wiping his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. A rough hand grabbed him by the collar and turned his face toward Goito.

“Si o no!? Do you understand!?” Angry spit was flung at his face.

“Si! Yes!” Azzy cried. He was let go. His uncle continued to drive, a scowl marked on his face. Azazel bit his lip to keep him from crying. He tasted blood in his mouth.

They arrived back at the community. Azazel’s father was waiting nearby. He saw his son covered in blood and tears.

“Que diablos! What happened to him?” His father exclaimed.

“Some pendejo on the road drove right past us. I slammed on the brakes. I told him he should have been wearing his seatbelt.”

Azazel felt excruciating anger rise in him as he heard his uncle’s lies. Before he could hear anymore, he stormed to his home. Passing by his mother still at the table, he set down the change and pack of cigarettes. His mother barely acknowledged his presence.

He locked the bedroom door behind him. He crashed into bed and sank his teeth into his pillow to keep him from screaming. Blood stained the sheets, but he didn’t care. When he let go, he was quivering. Azzy pulled a few tissues from a nearby box and cleaned his face. After a while, he relaxed.

His body slumped onto the mattress and after an hour, he drifted to sleep.


	3. Cursed Forever to Sleep on a Twin Size Mattress

The week seemed to be passing by excruciatingly longer by the day. The anticipation for Friday to come was boiling up by the moment. It was even hard for him to concentrate on school, which was very concerning since he was one of the brightest in his class.

Nevertheless, Andrew was more than happy to go to school. He only had a small close group of friends, but they were good company. He was especially pleased to see Angelica everyday. Her locker was on the opposite side of his, just a few meters down. They had literature together, and she was always enthusiastic and bright, traits that Andrew found very attractive.

And every night leading up to the party, when the house was quiet, he would attempt to arouse himself like the night on Sunday. The sessions led to disappointment, leaving his fingers and thighs wet, but without the climax. One night he got up to clean himself up, and to his horror, his younger sister, Faith had woken up, too. On the way to the bathroom, she asked why he was awake, startling him. He simply stated that he just needed to use the bathroom and before she could ask anything else, he rushed in.

It was Thursday and the Moore family was having dinner of baked chicken and mashed potatoes. Andrew’s father sat at the head at the table while his mother sat across. The twins sat next to each other, opposite of Andrew. His mother carried the plate of potatoes to the dining room and sat down. The family, instinctively, held hands and said grace. After their amen, they ate.

“So, Andrew. How was school today?” His mother asked.

Andrew, who slowly grew irritated by the question she asked every single week day, answered, “Good.”

“Nothing new to report, I presume?”

“Well, actually, Angelica invited me to this party at David Martin’s house. It’s tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” his father chimes in. “I known his dad. Good man.”

“It’s always nice to see you socializing, honey.” His mother commented. “When I was your age I loved going to parties and such.”

“Don’t I know it. Your mother was a hoot when she was in high school!” His father exclaimed, pointing his fork in his mother’s direction.

“Samuel!” His mother yelped, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Andrew chuckled, and his siblings looked on, confused. They family continued eating as normal until every member finshed their plates. They were placed in the dishwasher and everyone left to their bedrooms. 

Alone, Andrew prayed and slumped into bed. He didn’t bother trying to touch himself tonight. He wasn’t feeling it anyways. He simply shut off his bedside table lamp and slept soundly, a feeling of excitement lingered under his skin.

———

Their tiny fold up dining table was meant to only fit two people, but the three family members were able to make do with the space. Dinner tonight was the usual, leftover arroz con pollo. It was simple and it hardly filled them up, but they ate without complaining.

It was silent, like most of the dinners in the Rosales home. They only time there was conversation at the table was when there was big news or arguing. Azazel’s father cleared his throat, breaking the quietness in the room.

“You remember what tomorrow is, si?” He said to Azazel.

“Si.” He replied solemnly.

“And you have the address written down?”

“Si.” Azzy shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, wishing this conversation would end.

“Okay. We will be waiting for you by the entrance. Do not get caught.”

“Si, papa. You’ve told me this thousands of time.”

“Ya! Don’t talk back to me that way. I just wanted to make sure.” His father chewed loudly on his rice. “It is a great honor, hijo.”

Azazel remained quiet for a moment, then stood up, declaring he was no longer hungry. He vanished to his room. Alone, he sat on the stiff mattress, head in his hands. The thing wasn’t until tomorrow, and yet he was still sweating. For only final time, he opened a small box he kept on his bedside table, which was just a cardboard box, and pulled out a wrinkled post-it note. He read his own handwriting over and over again.

“Pleasant Lake Street 9647 - Henry Brooke (long brown hair, brown eyes, two piercings on left ear)”

He put the note on the table, flicked the light switch off, and slept. He was skaking underneath his covers.


	4. Sandwiched Between Heaven and Hell

The drive to David Martin’s house was only twenty minutes in the family van. His house was slightly larger than their own house, with a massive backyard and swimming pool. Already the front of the house was sprinkled with groups of high schoolers, some of which Andrew recognized. His father stopped the car in front of the house next to it.

“Okay, Andrew, I’ll be picking you up at around 10:30. I don’t want you drinking or smoking or any foolishness of that sort.” His father said sternly.

Andrew didn’t mind his father’s tone of voice, he was too busy wondering what he and Angelica would get up to tonight. But he turned to his father with a smile and said, “Of course, dad.” He got out of the car and started walking toward the large house.

“Have a fun time!” His father called to him. Andrew waved him goodbye and his father was already driving away.

Inside the house, teenagers were yelling at each other over blaring music. Most of them were holding red solo cups filled with cheap beer. Andrew wasn’t worried about getting drunk, mostly because he didn’t like the taste of alcohol at all. He squeezed himself through the crowd till he found someone he recognized. His friend, Fritz, spotted him through the crowd and made his way over to him.

Fritz wore comically large glasses, suspenders, high waisted pants, and had a lisp. He had the stereotypical appearance of a nerd, but didn’t have the brain of one.

“Andrew! Tho glad you came! Travith and I thought you weren’t gonna make it.” Fritz exulted.

“Hey, Fritz!” Andrew said, giving his friend a light punch on the shoulder. “Where is Travis anyway?”

“Eh, probably getting high in the backyard. Y’know Henry alwayth bringth the good thtuff. Though I haven’t even theen him show up yet.”

“Have you seen Angelica around yet?”

“Oh, Angelica Fisher? I think I thaw her in the kitchen getting drinkth.” Fritz raised his eyebrows at Andrew. “Why? Planned anything thepcial tonight?”

Andrew, stunned, shook his head. “What? No, man!”

“Aw, what a shame.” Fritz said with sarcastic disappointment.

“What’s a shame?” A voice behind them spoke. It was Travis. From the sound of his voice, it was noticeable that he was already under the influence of something. He has shaggy long hair and some bits of facial hair growing above his lip. He wore a metal band t-shirt and ripped jeans.

“Andrew ithn’t gonna get it on tonight with hith girlfriend.” Fritz responded.

Andrew sent a hard punch to Fritz’s arm. “She’s not my girlfriend, jerk.”

“C’mon, dude. Why wouldn’t you want to be with a girl like that? Besides, I heard she likes sensitive guys.” Travis slurred.

“Psh, whatever. I’m gonna go find her.” Andrew left his friends and squeezed his way into the kitchen. He could hear his friends obnoxiously hooting at him. The kitchen wasn’t as packed as the living room. There was only a few groups standing around, one of them being Angelica’s group of friends.

Angelica stood out from the rest of her friends, wearing a tight short skirt, knee high socks, and a pink blouse not buttoned all the way up. Her golden hair was beautifully brushed out and flowing along her shoulders. Andrew swallowed the nervousness caught in his throat. He forced his feet to move towards her. Angelica soon caught sight of him and smiled, breaking away from her group.

“Hey, Andrew! I’m really glad that you showed up.” She gingerly wrapped her arms around him, and Andrew did the same. He inhaled her strong rose-scented perfume as he did.

The two chatted for a while about anything they could. School, parents, church, friends. Every so often the music coming from the living room would change from electronic to pop, from rock to indie. Sometimes Andrew would look at Angelica and notice they was her eyes lingered on him. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was just in his head, but the room suddenly felt heavier around them.

“Hey, um, do you know where the bathroom is?” Angelica interrupted at one point.

“Pretty sure there’s one upstairs. C’mon, I’ll show you.” Andrew led Angelica up the stairway to the second floor. Not many people were there. There were mostly couples making out in the corners of the hallways or sneaking off into rooms and locking the door behind them. Soon, they found a bathroom that was unoccupied.

“I’ll just wait for you outside.” Andrew said. He then saw Angelica give a mischievous grin. Instead of going into the bathroom herself, she snatched Andrew by the wrist and yanked him into the room with her. Once inside, she locked the door behind them.

“Angelica! What-?!” Andrew couldn’t complete his sentence, for Angelica had pressed her cherry red mouth onto his. His entire body went numb and he had to lean against the sink counter behind him for support. Angelica’s hands were placed on the counter, pining him to the surface. Andrew, unsure of what to do with his hands, placed them on her hips. He touched the fabric of her skirt, feeling it’s silky texture. The more he played with it, the more it rode up her leg. Without realizing it, he ran his fingers across Angelica’s thighs.

“Damn, you’re great at this.” She swooned. She removed her hands from the counter and placed them on his neck.

The movements continued, languid and smooth. Andrew would sometimes sneak his hand up her skirt, causing her to moan. It was everything he ever dreamed of. Except it wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to give up his virginity so soon. Maybe he didn’t want it to be this way, in the bathroom at a house party. As the thoughts continued, the slower his movements became. He then came to a full stop.

“You alright?” Angelica asked, slightly impatient.

“Um...” Andrew hesitated. “I don’t know if I want to...y’know?”

“What?” From her tone, she seemed offended by his response.

“Look, it’s not like I wasn’t enjoying it. I was, actually! It’s just that I don’t know if I want to do this right now.”

Angelica didn’t reply. She just stared at him. Her eyes, once heavy with love and desire, were now vacant. She unlocked the bathroom door and left. Andrew didn’t chase after her. He turned around and washed his face multiple times with bitter cold water.

After catching his breath, he stepped out into the corridor and looked up at a nearby clock on the wall.

9:17

Andrew groaned in frustration. There was no way he would be able to survive another hour at this party. He roamed down the hallways until he found a phone. He dialed his home phone and waited. The phone rang about three times before someone picked up.

“Hello, Mrs. Moore speaking.”

“Mom?”

“Andrew? Sweetie, why are you calling? Aren’t you at a party? Did something happen?” There was a hint of panic on her voice.

“Um, no. Can you or dad come pick me up, please?”

“Honey, did something happen?”

“No, mom. I’m just tired. Can one of you please just take me home?”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Love you.”

Andrew hung up and headed downstairs. In the living room he saw Fritz and Travis slumped on the couch surrounded by empty red cups. He made his way over to the front door. He looked over his shoulder to observe the party once more, when he saw Angelica pressed against a stranger, making out. Although Andrew hadn’t drank anything tonight, he nearly vomited at the sight. He rushed out the front door and as though an angel had appeared, he saw his mother’s car approach the house. As soon as the vehicle parked on the sidewalk, Andrew clambered into the passenger seat.

“Andy, are you alright?”

Andrew nodded.

“Did something happen at the party?”

“No, mom.”

“You didn’t drink, did you?”

“NO, mom.”

“Did someone-?”

“MOM. NOTHING. HAPPENED!”

The car was silent. In one moment, Andrew and his mother were shocked by his sudden outburst. In the next, Andrew was crying. He rested his head on the dashboard and covered his face with his arms. His sobs made it hard to breathe. His whole body was quivering. His mother never took her eyes off the road.

When she pulled into the garage and turned the car off, only then did she comb her son’s hair with her fingers. Only then did she rub his back, soothing his shaking sobs. When Andrew had calmed down a bit, still sniffling and shaking, did she speak.

“Andy? Whatever happened at the party, you can talk to me about. You don’t have to say anything now, but just know that I’m here to talk to.”

Andrew sniffed. “Okay, mom.”

Both of them got out of the car and headed upstairs to Andrew’s room. Andrew only had the energy to remove his jeans. He slipped into bed and watched his mother standing in the doorway. She shut the lights off and turned to leave, but was stopped.

“Mom?”

She waited.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetie.” The she left.

Andrew was left alone in the dark.


	5. And Now I Just Sit in Silence

The car ride to the entrance of town was long and silent. It was 8:14 p.m. and it was already dark out. Tall trees were on both sides of the dirt road. As the surroundings became less and less familiar, the more he became anxious.

Azazel has never been out so far by himself. He was about half an hour away from his home. His hoodie was already stained with his nervous sweat. He kept driving, they only sound around him was the tires speeding on the dirt road. About twenty more minutes passed when he saw a gas station. His heart jumped. He knew he was getting close.

Azzy’s mission for tonight was to find Henry Brooke, someone he had never heard of or seen before, knock him out, and take him back to the community. Finding the teen would be somewhat difficult. What if he never found him? What if he gets the wrong person? These anxieties rushed through his head. However, knocking him down wouldn’t be so hard. Azazel had good combat skills and he could throw a good punch.

What would be most challenging, emotionally, would be taking him. Not only that, but also what he would have to do with him once they reached the community.

All his instructions would be given to him by his father, and he would have to perform them in front of the community. He had seen it done before by other members. It always left him sick and disturbed, always having to excuse himself from the group. Then would he throw up and cry until he calmed down.

But now it was his turn. Now he had no chance to flee from the situation. He was in the middle of it. Panic swelled in his chest when Azazel realized that there was no backing out. He had to kidnap this person. He had to hurt him.

Azzy could feel something bubble in his stomach and threaten to travel through his throat, but he held it back. He already began to see houses. According to the street signs, he was going the right way. He was on Pleasant Lake Street, now he just needed to find the house. After several minutes of driving around, he found a large home surrounded by teenagers. Loud music could be heard from inside.

No one seemed to notice him or the truck, so he felt safe. He was parked close enough to see the individuals, but far away enough to not seem suspicious. There were several groups of people on the front lawn; some were talking, others drinking. One kid, about Azzy’s age, had just arrived. None of the people there matched the description of Henry Brooke.

He had been waiting for almost an hour, almost falling asleep at one point. He scanned the lawn one last time. And then he saw him. The boy had long brown hair down to his waist. He couldn’t see his eyes, but they seemed to match his hair color. Henry was standing in a group, then proceed to walk away. He stood by a nearby tree and lit a cigarette. Smoke floated from him, as if he were made of fire.

The target was far away enough from the main area of the party. Azazel inhaled a deep breath, let it go, and got out of the car. He creeped towards the unsuspecting victim, who was still smoking. Then, with his boy’s back facing him, he launched forward and covered his mouth with his hand forcefully. The surprised Henry Brooke attempted to cry out for help, but all that came out was a quiet and panicked mumble.

Azazel dragged the boy away from the party. When they were at a good distance, Azzy wrapped his arm around the victim’s neck and strangled him until he went limp. He wrapped the boy’s wrists and ankles with some rope from the truck. Finally, he covered his mouth with duct tape. He tossed the body onto the back of the truck, climbed into the driver seat, and drove away.

The ride back to the community felt almost the same as when he drove into the town. The steady road and trees on either side were almost relaxing. The scenery at least calmed his nerves a bit. But he still felt the heavy weight in his stomach. The anxiety continued to pester him, but he kept driving. He kept driving.

And driving.

And driving for another two hours until the trees and dirt road were gone, and all that was left were trailer homes. A mass of people stood in a field in the center of the community. With their black robes on, they were only dark masses in the night. Even though he knew who these people were, the atmosphere was threatening. They seemed more like strangers to him.

He exited the truck and one of the hooded figures walked toward him. He was carrying another robe in his arms. As he drew closer, Azazel could see that it was his uncle. Tio Goito handed him the robe and ordered him to put it on. Unlike the other robes, this one was blood red. This one was always reserved for the members performing the actual ritual.

“The body is in the trunk?” Tio Goito asked.

“Si.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“No.”

Goito nodded, pleased. “I’ll get the boy. You go on ahead.” He roughly patted Azazel on the shoulder, sending him off. Before Azzy could go far, his uncle spoke. “Make us proud, Azzy.”

Azazel went off without another word. Behind him he could hear his uncle struggling with the body of the teen. He approached the group of hooded members and stood next to his father who held a worn out book with a symbol on it. On the other side of him was his mother who barely acknowledged him as he entered the border of the circle.

His uncle arrived with Henry Brooke’s limp body. He set it on the ground, in the middle of the symbol that was painted onto the grass. Goito then joined the rest on the outer ring. Azazel glanced at his father. The older man opened the book.

“Azazel Rosales, step forward.”

He did. His feet felt like they were made of heavy metal.

“Say your prayer.”

“The devil is my savior. I give my life, my blood, my soul to evil. God’s angels are wicked. They keep my soul from the devil’s hands.” Azzy stopped to breathe. He noticed that he was shaking.

“Our savior has brought you this angel to slaughter. Slaughter the angel to secure your soul with the devil, or let this wicked angel torture your soul?”

He was still shaking. “Slaughter the angel.” His voice cracked at the word slaughter.

His father turned to a member behind him, then turned to his son. He held out a sharp dagger. Its handle was wooden with detailed carvings on it. The blade was a sharp silver, glowing in the moonlight.

“Wield this dagger and do your bidding.”

Azazel faces his father, but he did not take the weapon. His knees threatened to buckle underneath him. Sweat gleamed on his face. His body refused to move.

“Son,” his father whispered. “Take the knife.”

He took it. The handle fit snugly into his palm. He turned back to the body laying on the grass. The boy’s long hair dangled on his face peacefully.

“Wicked angel,” he began. “Feel the wrath of the devil’s...”

He stopped. Azzy couldn’t seem to get the final words out of his mouth. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump forming there.

“Th-the devil’s...” Tears sprang to his eyes and fell like waterfalls down his cheeks. He toppled to the ground, dropping the knife. Azazel gripped strands of grass in his fists. He looked at the knocked out boy in front of him. There was no sign of him waking up. It would be so easy to sink the blade into his flesh. So easy.

He didn’t.

“Get up.” His father said from behind.

Azazel shook his head.

“Get UP!”

Azazel was still. He cried out, “No. No! I won’t do it!” For a long moment, he simply sobbed into the grass below him.

“Then leave.”

He made no attempt to get up from his spot. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tio Goito separate himself from the group and walk towards his trailer home. After a few minutes, he returned with a heavy duffel bag. He slammed it on the ground next to Azazel.

“Leave. Your belongings are in the bag. Take the truck. Do not come back, ever. Lo entiendes?”

Azazel rose to his feet and picked up the duffel bag. “Si.” Azzy removed the red robe. He trudged to the truck, put the bag in the passenger seat, and got in. Before driving away, he took one last look at the boy on the ground. He wanted to ask what they would do with him, but he already knew the answer. He drove away into the dark dirt road.

Half an hour into the drive he felt dizzy. He stopped the vehicle and got out, leaning his exhausted body on the side of the truck. He was quivering from the cold and nausea. He moved away from the truck and vomited onto the grass. Most of it was dry heaving since he had barely eaten anything that day. He entered the truck again, his mouth smelling and feeling like acid.

He continued to drive in silence. He kept thinking about the angel.


	6. I am Just a Fool to Keep on Chasing After Nothing Great

Waking up the following morning was something Andrew was not looking forward to. The sun was high in the sky and its light was seeping through his bedroom curtains. His clock read that it was already 10:47 in the morning. He had already slept through breakfast and he was starving. He slumped out of bed and headed downstairs, not bothering to change clothes or brush his teeth.

In the living room, his mother sat on the couch reading a book. His brother and sister were on the carpet, focused on the kids program playing on the small television. He made his way towards them and sat down on the other end of the couch. His mother, glancing at him once, said “You missed breakfast, sweetie.” Andrew mumbled in acknowledgment.

“We had pancakes!” His Faith called out. Andrew gave a tired smile and bent down to ruffle his sibling’s hair.

“I’ll make yours once you get cleaned up.” His mother said.

“Okay.” Andrew glanced around the house. “Where’s dad?”

His mother then stopped reading. A concerned look spread across her face. “He got a call from Chief Howard last night. Saying that Mrs. Brooke’s kid never made it home last night.” She turned towards him. “Did you see him last night at the party?”

“Henry Brooke? No.” A chill went down his spine when he remembered what his friend Trevor said about not seeing Henry at the party.

“Well, she and her husband put up missing person posters all over town this morning. They were at the police station in a panic. Those poor things. I don’t want you going out anytime soon. Who knows what might have happened.” She picked her book back up, but she seemed to distracted to read.

Andrew left his mother and siblings in the living room to go clean up. He brushed the pungent smell of morning breath from his teeth and combed his fluffy hair. In his bedroom, he threw on a navy blue hoodie, but left on his pajamas pants. It made no difference if Henry Brooke, or any other kid, went missing, he still had to will to go outside today. Just out of fear of seeing Angelica in public.

Suddenly, the phone on his bedside table rang. After the second ring, he picked up. “Hello?”

“Andrew? It’s me.”

His stomach dropped to the floor. He was tempted to slam the phone back onto its base, but kept it in his hand. “Hey, Angelica. What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you made it home last night. After what happened to Henry, everybody’s been freaking out.”

“Mhm. You made it home, too?” His voice showed absolutely no enthusiasm or energy.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course! Is everything alright with you?”

“Sure. Everything’s perfect.” _All thanks to you._

“Are you sure? You don’t sound too good.”

“I’m fine.” _As if you cared._

“Well, give me a call anytime. See ya, Andrew.”

“Bye.” _Fuck you fuck you fuck you._

He hung up. He went over the conversation again in his head. The inside of his mouth felt sour. He wanted so much more out of it, an apology, a chance of redemption, anything. But at the same time, he wanted nothing at all from it.

Andrew went downstairs for breakfast. The plate of pancakes was already set on the table for him. His mother was washing dishes. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Nobody, just someone trying to sell something.” It felt bad to lie, but he didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth. Maybe one day he would open up about Angelica and the party and the call. Maybe. But now was not the time. It was pancake time.


	7. Kissing Signs on The Interstate

It’s been a full day and night since he’s been away from the community. Azazel had parked the truck on the side of the road in the forest, still on the very edge of town. He had refused to go into the main town area out of fear of being recognized. Or maybe he didn’t want to relive those memories.

The first night had been rough. He slept in the back seat of the truck, only covered by the thin blanket he kept on his bed at home. Or what used to be his home. His uncle had been kind enough to pack his essentials. A blanket, deodorant, spare clothes, some snacks. Even with the heater on, it was still freezing cold. He only got about four hours of sleep.

Waking up, he got back into the driver seat and drove further into town. Panic set in as he passed the first couple houses, but he knew he had to go in at some point. His uncle had thrown in some cash, too. And even though he had several bags of chips and some leftover rice and chicken in a plastic container, he knew that wasn’t going to last.

Azzy’s main problem would be money. He had no job or any possible chance of getting one. Before going to sleep that night, he checked the duffel bag and found five twenty dollar bills and some loose change. Also, upon searching between the cushions on the dirty truck seats, he found another $1.05. The bag also contained a necklace with a pentagram, which was given to him since he was twelve. Another finding was a stash of weed, given to him by Tio Goito at age sixteen.

As he drove further into town, he recalled the first time he smoked it with his uncle. They were outside, sitting on the hood of this very truck, and Tio held the blunt between his fingers. He had offered it to Azazel, but he declined. Goito has said “Don’t be a puto. It’s not so bad.” Hurt by the insult, he had hesitated again, which caused his uncle to force it up to his lips. It burned his tongue and the smell was repulsive. He had a coughing fit, but Tio egged him on. Once he relaxed, he took a second hit, and it felt more refreshing than the first. His head and fingers felt fuzzy, and he remembered laughing hysterically at nothing.

Azazel was officially inside the town of Copper Creek. He drove past a gas station, some lower class homes, a mom and pop restaurant, and a pawn shop. He kept driving, and he later spotted some larger homes, a park, and a high school. Being Saturday, the location was nearly empty. Only a few teenagers lingered on the bleachers of a soccer field, probably high or drunk. 

Azazel slowed down the truck and got out. If he wasn’t able to get a job, his next best bet would be begging for money. One of the teenagers noticed him and hobbled over to the fence that separated them. He was long-haired and had red rimmed eyes. He eerily reminded him of Henry Brooke.

“Hey,” Azzy began. “You happen to have any spare change or anything?”

“Hmm...maybe.” The kid mumbled. “What’s in it for me?”

Fuck. Azazel was stumped for a moment, but was hit with an idea. “Do you and your buddies over there want anything to drink? I got a fake ID. I can get anything you want, but at a price.”

The teen then seemed suspicious. “Wait a minute, are you a cop?”

“What? No, man. I got kicked out of my place, I just need some extra cash. Here, give me a second.” Azzy moved back to the truck and searched through his duffel bag. He pulled out a fake ID given to him when he was 18. He held it up to the kid to show him.

“Alright, I trust you. What’s the price?”

“You pick your poison, give me the money for it plus ten bucks, and I’ll use the ID.”

The kid agreed. He waved the rest of his friends over and they jumped the fence. They piled into the truck, the main one in the passenger seat while the other three sat in the back. The long-haired teen later introduced himself as Travis. He gave Azazel to the nearest liquor store and they jumped out.

“Alright, Travis come with me. The rest of you stay out here. Can’t cause a commotion and seem suspicious.” The three others obliged. Travis and Azazel entered the store. The inside smelled like heavy alcohol and sweat. The lady at the register was reading a magazine and barely noticed them enter. The two of them wandered through the store until Travis came across some bronze colored bottles of beer. Azzy recognized the drink since most of his family members drank it at home.

“$10.49. So that’s $20.49 for you.”

Travis fished some five dollar bills from his pocket and handed it to Azzy. At the counter of the store, he placed down the money and took out his ID. The woman took the money and barely glanced at the ID. To be fair, Azazel did look old for his age due to his height and tired look. She handed him the pack of alcohol and they walked out. The other three teens were ecstatic. They thanked Azazel for the alcohol and walked off.

Even though he only made ten dollars, he was still satisfied with his work. Maybe he could turn this into a job if he found other high school kids that wanted drinks. Maybe he was going to be okay after all. He hopped back into the vehicle and found a nearby empty parking lot to park for the day. Being winter, it was already dark outside. Azazel clambered into the back seat and spread the blanket over him. With the peace of the night surrounding him, he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
